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37. Aeron IX / Maegor XX / Visenya VIII
🕑 Added 2024-09-29 15:07:51 +0000 UTCAeron IX
2nd Moon 33AC
‘Has the command tent ever been this rowdy?’ Aeron thought with a small smile as his lieutenants argued with the commanders of the Pentoshi forces. The capture of the two Faceless Men had gone off almost without a hitch. So now the entire leadership was rearing to finish the war, especially the Pentoshi.
The monetary policy of Pentos eluded his understanding but he knew the coffers were tight. They spent large sums of gold paying Maegor and the Black Company, on top of paying for their own army of nearly thirty thousand men to fight the Dothraki just three years ago.
He tried to assuage them that looting Braavos would easily make up for any costs accrued but either the Magisters were simply greedy or the situation was worse than he thought. Aeron wondered if their worries included mobilizing the Pentoshi militia.
Pentos, like many of the other Free Cities, took to war half-heartedly. Before the Doom there was no war between Old Valyria’s daughters so none of the Free Cities besides Volantis had anything resembling a military tradition. So the wars in the Century of Blood were essentially relegated to battles between sellswords, at least north of the Golden Fields that is.
That began to change with the ascension of the Dothraki but even then, it only led to the strengthening of the local militias. As of now, Volantis was the only Free City that had anything resembling a permanent professional force.
‘That will need to change,’ Aeron thought with a hum as Ser Gawen inserted himself into the rapidly heating-up conversation around him. If it kept going Aeron would intervene.
Maegor had shared with him the initial plans he had for a proper professional force for Pentos but it would take time. The Black Company would not be particularly interested in becoming the army of Pentos so reforms would have to be done nearly from the ground up, even if they could look to their sellsword company for inspiration.
The first issue was the overreliance on militia. They did have some benefits, they were quick to respond to enemy incursions, relatively cheap, and could be called up to deal with problems rather than needing to keep a professional force around.
But militia also could be quite troublesome. Similar to the levees back in Westeros. A proper soldier or knight would almost always beat a farmer with a spear. They lacked proper organization, they had poor equipment, and little to no training, and left the farms of Pentos bereft of workers when they were called up.
‘Perhaps that is why the Magisters are wary of keeping them deployed,’ Aeron thought with a glance toward Magister Thorello. Above all else, arming the population while you were currently dispossessing them of their lands and then asking them to fight and die for you was a risky measure.
The days of small farmers in the lands of Old Andalos were long gone. A few of the more skilled farmers still clung to their lands, and kept afloat with agreements with Maegor and new innovations from Maegor’s artisans but it was really only a matter of time. Even Aeron was buying up property in Old Andalos.
It was another suggestion of Maegor’s, he tried to convince most of the leadership in the Black Company to start buying up some lands. Whether or not he wanted to simply make the lives of his lieutenants better or if he merely wanted more de facto control of Old Andalos Aeron did not know.
‘Probably both,’ Aeron thought as he considered his own position in Pentos. This war could very well be a springboard for him to rise once again. He was now a fairly wealthy man in Pentos. Should he wish he could probably ascend to the conclave with little fuss.
Aeron shook his head of those thoughts for now however, as the war currently being waged was more important, his position in Pentos could be dealt with later. Right now he had to figure out what to do with Braavos and how to wage this war.
The Pentoshi forces led by a strangely cooperative Magister Thorello argued fiercely that they march for Braavos right now. The Black Company meanwhile was waiting for Queen Visenya’s word.
She had taken Maegor’s place at the head of the company and quickly whipped the entire combined force into action. It only took one short conversation with Magister Thorello to convince him to “graciously cede command of the combined force” as he put it.
Of course, not a soul in the force was actually willing to argue with Queen Visenya, that was something only Maegor could do. The rest of the force was rightfully terrified of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and they had an ever-present reminder of why.
A guttural scream silenced the debate in the tent for what was perhaps the fifth time this session. Queen Visenya was currently torturing a captured Faceless Man three tents away. Guarded by close to three hundred soldiers.
Capturing a Faceless Man was their first and foremost priority for the last five moons. Ever since they deployed from the walls of Pentos, their mission was to secure the capture of at least one Faceless Man.
They had initially wished to ride out and simply toss a net around the two Faceless Men Queen Visenya had found in the forest but they considered it too risky. So with the aid of Magister Thorello, they orchestrated a weakening in their defenses and gathered in one place to lure them in.
It had gone off almost without a hitch. Two Faceless Men are trapped in an empty tent. They managed to tackle both to the ground but only one survived the scuffle. Aeron was certain however that the Faceless Man who survived wished he did not.
Not a soul was permitted to enter or exit the tent besides Queen Visenya so only she knew the true extent of her torture of the Faceless cunt but the rumors from the guards were haunting. Skin removed from the hands and feet, plucked out eyes, lopping off the loins, even draining him of his blood. There were countless horrifying rumors circling the camp of Queen Visenya’s methods and he had heard more than one soul say, “I am glad she is on our side.”
All the discussions on when to march against the Braavosi fortifications were de facto moot for the time being. Without Queen Visenya it could take them moons to break through the forts erected along the coastal plain. Unfortunately for Magister Thorello and his desire for a quick war, and for the Faceless bastard, Queen Visenya’s priorities were firmly on the prey she caught.
“Enough talk of when to attack, we wait for Queen Visenya’s word. Or did you not cede overall command to her?” Aeron finally decided to weigh in on the discussion. His own mind and the maps laid before him had become boring.
“Indeed I did, but the longer we wait the more prepared Braavos will be for a siege,” Magister Thorello said with all the finesse and haughtiness he expected from a wealthy Magister of Pentos.
“Perhaps, but waiting also means we will have proper dragon support. Braavos’s preparations mean nothing in the face of Dragonfire,” Lord Galladon Tarth responded, given he was a veteran of the conquest, he would know.
“Dragonfire? I thought you said we were to loot Braavos. To make up for the costs of this war,” Magister Thorello continued to be annoyingly difficult to refute. Had it not been for the Faceless Men they likely would already be fighting for the city of Braavos by now.
The paralysis of the army was infuriating but understandable. It was almost as infuriating as having to entrust his safety to others. Typically he was more than happy to delegate some of his own protection to his guards but the addition of food tasters and the knowledge that practically anyone could stick him with a poisoned needle kept him up many nights.
He imagined every other lieutenant and commander in the army felt the same way and even some of the common soldiers were feeling stressed. The strike on Braavos looked more fortuitous every day because Aeron was uncertain if the army could properly fight in its current condition.
Thankfully, there was a real way out now. With a Faceless Man captured and Queen Visenya on duty gathering information from the damned soul, perhaps they could soon know just how many faceless abominations they would need to kill before they could sleep soundly.
“We will all get our share from Braavos, Magister Thorello, even if we have to dredge it up from the Lagoon,” Aeron waved away Magister Thorello’s concerns but it appeared the stubborn magister was not yet done.
“And when will that be? I do not know how long Pentos’s coffers and fields can support so many men in the field,” the magister continued and Aeron could not help but roll his eyes.
“Whenever we receive the order to march and seize Braavos and all her treasures,” Aeron spoke plainly and calmly to the apparent simpleton. They could theoretically march there now, siege down every fort along the Coastal Plain but what would be the point when they could just wait for Queen Visenya to finish with her work?
“Very well,” Magister Thorello said over another blood-curdling scream before Aeron decided to dismiss the tent, debating over moot arguments that would do them little right now. It would be better to rest up and prepare for the march to Braavos, whenever it was fated to happen.
“You may all leave now, get some rest but remain on your guard. Until Queen Visenya is done we do not know how many more Faceless Men are out there,” he said with a particular emphasis on his own lieutenants, personally he did not care if the old guard of the Pentoshi army died, it would probably make his plans for after the war easier.
As they all left the tent one by one, apart from his guards that is, Aeron could not help but feel both proud and jealous. He could command these men so easily but only as the voice of another, and it was not even his friend this time.
This should have been his time to shine, his time to lead the army when Maegor physically could not, his time to truly prove himself but it was not to be. Not only was the army effectively paralyzed but he was also under the command of another.
‘Is this my fate? To endlessly help others ’ Aeron thought with a frown. The best chance for his own proper ascension to greatness and it was snatched away yet again.
‘Fate…’ Aeron thought, recalling what his father told him long ago, one of the few lessons Aethan Velaryon bothered to personally teach his second son. Aethan Velaryon had taught him that House Targaryen was the peak of the world and their place was in the dragon’s shadow.
His father’s words appeared in his mind once more. “To be the second house of the realm. The most reliable supporters of House Targaryen, to aid them where possible and reap the rewards from their success,” he reiterated in the Stepstones and Aeron could not help but notice the truth in them now.
He had acted so foolishly for the last few years. Endlessly striving to outdo Maegor and try to find his own place under the sun. He thought it was just his friend for a while, that it was his friend’s fault that he continued to live in the shadows. But Queen Visenya’s actions ever since arriving proved that to not be true.
No, a new truth was revealed to Aeron Velaryon. House Targaryen truly was the peak, and none could surpass them. Queen Visenya’s mere presence and the presence of her dragon made any skill of his moot. Any charisma, any connections, any plans, they all meant nothing, because Queen Visenya was a dragon rider, and even if she had no friends in the army, they would listen to her.
The new reality laid before him forced Aeron to open his eyes. To try and see the situation from another angle. What was he missing? What two dots could he not connect? The answers eluded Aeron still.
‘My dream,’ Aeron thought with a frown, realizing his faults. His dream to be world renown for his accomplishments, they were indeed foolish, as his little brother Valarr said.
‘No! Not like Valarr said!’ Aeron thought, shaking his head before collecting himself again.
His dream was not foolish, nor was it impossible, he was merely trying to achieve it in the wrong way. His father said that their destiny as a house was second in the realm. Just behind House Targaryen, and was that not where he was right now?
He could not see it clearly but he was in a very enviable position. He had Maegor’s ear as a trusted friend. He had already proven himself capable of aiding Maegor where he needed it most. He held a position that was the envy of most of the Narrow Sea and he had been wasting it.
‘Damn it all, how could I not see all of this before?’ Aeron thought, head in his hands. It all seemed so clear to him now. His destiny was not to rise above the rest of the world, to make everyone well aware of his presence and might, that was Maegor’s destiny.
Yet Aeron’s dream was not an impossibility, this war already showed that Maegor would make waves, that his presence would be known throughout history, whether he conquered Essos or not. Aeron could achieve his dream, and be well known beyond just a footnote by continuing what he was doing and pushing himself further.
He may never be as well known or renowned as Maegor but there was a place in history for him. This would not be Maegor’s only war, and when Maegor rode to battle on dragonback, Aeron would be right there on the ground, ensuring the battle was won.
Aeron almost sighed in relief once he put it all together, like a weight on his chest had finally been lifted and clarity returned to him. He could view his position more clearly now, and it made all his past actions seem so foolish.
New plans sprang to mind in his head, he spent so long aiming to be first that he never considered how to best be second. Old conversations he had with Magisters and Maegor came to mind, plans on acquiring lands and incomes and a wife.
“Oh… I should speak with my father,” Aeron muttered to himself. He would also need to have conversations with his brothers and Maegor. All the times Maegor pressured him to get married, all the times his own father did so too.
“Maegor was trying to secure his children’s future,” Aeron realized. His father’s words rang true again, House Velaryon was second to House Targaryen but that afforded them key privileges, namely marriages.
His blood was the closest to that of a Targaryen outside of the family. He had two Targaryen great-grandmothers. One from his Velaryon heritage but his mother Alara Massey also had a Targaryen Grandmother.
‘Maegor was pushing me to marry in the event his children needed brides,’ Aeron thought with a shocked expression. Aeron was so focused on his dream, on trying to excel so much on the field to outshine Maegor that he did not realize what his friend had been trying to say.
It all made sense to Aeron now, sure Maegor might end up with plenty of daughters for each of his sons or he may marry into Prince Aenys and Alyssa’s family across the sea but he had only two sons now and Prince Aenys had two sons and a daughter. There was a serious possibility that Maegor’s children may need to marry out of the family again, and if that were to happen, one of his potential children would be the first choice.
His father’s words were not only true in status but in blood as well. The magisters of Pentos were mostly pure Valyrians, descended from the original colonists from Old Valyria. But they had intermittently mixed with the occasional local Andal lord or with the occasional foreigner.
The Old Blood of Volantis were probably his greatest competition but they were still behind House Velaryon. His house could boast of several Targaryen matches over the last one hundred years. He outclassed each and every one of the Old Blood and depending on who he married, his children would too.
‘Fuck! Who do I marry?’ Aeron thought, his mind was abuzz with ideas, plans, and worries. He felt like he had been caught out in the open, like a deer helplessly in the sights of a hunting party.
“The war… focus on the war,” Aeron forced himself to calm down. He had a lot to work on now, his friend had clearly been setting him up for a future as his right hand and he had so far failed in that duty. Instead, figures like Illyrio Narratys and Rego Draz were filling the role he should be in.
“I should draft a letter to Father,” Aeron thought aloud as he reached for a piece of paper. The sooner he got the advice of his father the better. He had a lot of catching up to do.
__________________________________________________________________________
Maegor XX
3rd Moon, 33AC
The onset of spring should have made me feel happy. Excited at the snow receding and the cold winter breeze being replaced with a nice cool one. Instead, I could not have felt any worse.
Technically, I could feel worse physically, I was fully healed two moons ago. It was actually almost six moons now from the first attack and I had effectively recovered fully, with just a little bit of lingering pain in my left arm and chest. I was more than capable of flying and training with some guards allowed me to know I was very capable of fighting once again.
Yet I remained in the Narratys Manse all the same. I should be leading the army out in Old Andalos, preparing for a final push against Braavos so I could end this damn war and bring my family back to me. Instead, I had been locked in a single manse for almost six moons now.
It was safe to assume that there were Faceless Men after my life and my moving around would only make dragging the cretins out into the sunlight more challenging. If I were to say, move to my manse in the Velvet Hills, any Faceless Man in the city would have to change up their plans and positions, thus making any traps or hints of their locations null and void. As a result, I had to remain in Illyrio’s manse, separated from my friends, allies, and most devastatingly of all, my family.
Sending Shiera and my sons away was the hardest thing I ever had to do. The countless fights I had fought in my life, from the battle against the Giant of the Trident where he almost slew me in that burning village, from the damp caves of the Stepstones where I could have been killed in combat, from the battle with the Dothraki where I had four arrows pierce through my armor, even from the battle with a Faceless Man I had somehow survived. They all seemed so laughably easy compared to when I sent Sheira and my boys away.
I believe the saying was, that you do not truly know what you have until you lose it, and that was the feeling I had as I sat in a dark, secluded room in Illyrio’s manse. I wanted nothing more than to fly to Dragonstone and bring all three of them into my arms and squeeze them tight.
Especially after I received some truly horrible news from my mother, who was thankfully keeping in touch with Shiera using her glass candle. When I learned that Shiera was pregnant again, I had to use every ounce of my will to resist the urge to bring her to me, where she ought to be, instead of alone on Dragonstone.
I should have known that our nightly activities prior to her departure would be risky, but both of us were so caught up in her leaving that she must have forgotten to take moon tea. Now she was on Dragonstone, pregnant, without our staff, and the guest of the man who banished us in the first place.
I doubted Aegon would mistreat them, or I doubted he would mistreat my sons anyway but I could not be certain for my brother’s bitch wife. Perhaps it was my own concern flaring because I was not there to protect them but I couldn't help but fear for my sons. Yet because of the Faceless Cunts trying to kill me, I could not be with my family.
So I was denied both my family and the chance to kill those keeping them from me. All in all, it was a wonder I managed to keep myself from visiting Braavos just as my mother had. It would be so easy to just level the islands. Sink the detestable city beneath the waves and be done with the war but of course, it could not be that easy.
First and foremost was the Faceless Man problem, my mother had managed to successfully capture one but apparently, he resisted torture well, so we were still in the dark about the true number of assassins after us. I was not even sure if the Faceless Man she captured could even tell us. If he did not know, then we might truly be fucked.
The prospect of a never-ending shadow war with a faceless and leaderless organization was pretty much the exact opposite of appealing. I certainly did not wish to hide away on an island for the rest of my days so I hoped beyond hope that the doomed soul my mother was currently torturing to death had the information we needed.
That was the immediate thing holding me back from just torching Braavos but there was more. First and foremost of that was the potential to loot the city.
The wealth of Braavos could not be understated. The merchant city was not only the second most populated west of Yi Ti, but it also had no destitute slave underclass. The entire city was a metropolitan paradise by the standards of the city’s trueborn sisters.
Proper businesses, an above-average-sized class of merchants, wealthy merchant lords, and above all else, the Iron Bank. That bank was the main target for any potential sack of Braavos. An unimaginable amount of gold likely lay within and getting my hands on it could make me a real rival to the Lannisters when it came to the total wealth possessed.
It would help springboard some more of my plans. My brother coming through for me and offering to protect my children was an unexpected surprise but a welcome one. Even still I could not trust him or his children fully, as much as it pained me to admit, I needed a backup plan and more backup plans for those backup plans.
Becoming the single wealthiest lord west of Yi Ti would be an excellent start. I would of course have to temper my spending more so as to not completely destroy the value of gold but that wealth would allow many of my ideas to be sped up.
Reforms to Pentos would be the first on the docket after a successful war. Acquiring the title of Prince of Pentos, increasing its powers, relegating the conclave, and reducing its power along with reforming the foolish and time-consuming traditions, new infrastructure projects, properly subjugating Norvos and a defeated Braavos. Along with some much-needed reforms on slavery.
Disposing of my political enemies and acquiring power for myself and my family would have to happen first. My victory over the hated Braavos would give me all the leeway I needed to simply purge the most troublesome of the faction poised against me, especially Prince Nevio.
The Prince was now plotting to assassinate me, I figured it was bound to happen but I was surprised he was still planning on it after I defeated a Faceless Man. That feat quickly became the stuff of legends and bards were already singing about it in the streets. I was of course paying for many of them to do that but the legend persisted all the same. I had managed to outdo my great grandfather, who never even got close enough to a living Faceless Man to be assassinated. Meanwhile, I had managed to defeat one in single combat.
Yet Prince Nevio remained stubbornly determined to see me meet the same fate as his whore daughter. I could not have been happier seeing that detestable bitch swinging from the rope but every action had its consequences. It really was a shame too, I quite liked Prince Nevio. Perhaps he would have ended up in the way regardless of how it played out but I supposed that I did not need to feel bad about executing him after this war.
That would free up the position of Prince of Pentos but the position itself required many reforms. First and foremost was actual power, at the very least I needed to be able to dictate both domestic and foreign policy. Whether that be autocratic levels right from the jump or slowly working up to it through many reforms passed years apart depends entirely on how I am perceived following the purge.
Given Illyrio and Gessio’s reactions to my plans, I doubted most of the faction aligned with me would care so long as they got a piece of the new pie I was baking. But I would likely need to reinforce their trust once more once all of my reforms were passed.
As of now, the Pentoshi Conclave was a right mess, hundreds of years of traditions, customs, and superstitions had made the politics of Pentos wildly dysfunctional. Illyrio was placed in charge of that ultimate plan. The end goal as of now was an advisory body, no self-respecting dragonlord would actually share power with those underneath them and while I would not mind delegating some proper legislating up to the conclave, I could not leave them any real power when my sons potentially took my place.
Ultimately this plan to bring Pentos under my heel was for my family. Both to secure our livelihoods and secure a future for my sons and potential daughters. As of now, I was bereft of Dragonstone, the lordship that I wanted for personal reasons.
Dragonstone was where I grew up, where my mother grew up, and where my entire family did too. Where the dragons were born and raised. It was where I felt most comfortable and where I wanted to raise my children. Unfortunately, I had been denied that opportunity due to my choice of wife. I would make it a hundred out of a hundred more times but all actions had their consequences.
I might one day return to the island but I was uncertain if it would be as its princely lord. I knew from my previous life that Aenys snubbed both my mother and the alternate Maegor when he gave my island to his son. I did not think my brother would so callously spit on my honor and steal my home this time but I could not be certain. Ideally, I would have Dragonstone and Daeron would have my beloved island home lined up for him, but with that out of the picture I needed to look at my potential options.
Pentos was the obvious choice, when I had first arrived in Pentos I had been wary of setting down roots but now I had little choice. I was invested in Essos now and I had sunk in too much blood, sweat, and tears for it to all just be disposed of. Sure I could sell everything and move back to Dragonstone if Aenys lifted my banishment and returned my island to me but it would be a disgusting waste of my time here.
It was sad to admit but I could not have complete faith in my brother. His lack of communication with me over the last five years proved it to me. I needed a fallback plan and Pentos was it. Securing my control over Pentos so that my children would have something in the future was a necessity, even if it complicated future relations with Aenys and his children.
Of course, just acquiring Pentos would not be sufficient, the territory had to be improved and proper hold over Braavos and Norvos had to be secured. I had already begun drawing up plans with Rego about the expansion of farms and roads to connect Braavos to Pentos via land, then more roads to connect the interior of the hinterlands better with the cities.
Improvement did not just mean the roads, Rego and I had cooked up countless plans for economic expansion. New prospecting in the Hills of Norvos, expansion of agriculture, easing trade between Pentos and her subjects, more trade convoys sent east, and we were currently working on the creation of this world’s very first stock market.
That would have to be pushed for after the war of course. Much like the rest of the reforms and the most drastic of all my planned reforms. My plan to eventually abolish slavery within Pentos.
I was not yet willing to push for emancipation, given I would likely have to reimburse the slaveholders and there were easily a hundred thousand slaves in Pentos. But some reforms to make the practice more humane while I slowly worked to change the public’s mind on the subject would be a good start.
It was truly a shame that Braavos had such a large stick up its arse and had such a threatening assassin's order at their beck and call. For they were the one group in Essos that fought against the scourge of slavery, even if it was only tacit and half-hearted at best. Allies in this fight would be few and far between, and being able to count on a city’s support in a fledgling empire would be useful.
But it would not happen, Braavos was currently in a war against me and I doubt the populace would forget grudges so quickly after their city is looted. I would not impose slavery on them after the war of course but their punishment had to be brutal, precisely because of their attempted assassination of me.
Regardless of my future plans, fully emancipating all the slaves in Pentos would surely be a decades-long process. First would have to be a complete ban on the importation of new slaves, a ban which would no doubt be unpopular but it would be the first step toward abolishing the accursed, stagnant institution.
My separation from public life and my family did afford me one thing I supposed. Lots of time to plan out my future. I could not allow my sons to grow up in an atmosphere of uncertainty, I wanted them to grow up not fearing for their future. Given that they would have to worry about dragons already, being secure politically will be a weight off their shoulders.
Dragons were simply another problem that had to be stacked onto the pile. Ideally, my brother would lift my banishment and my access to the hatcheries on Dragonstone would be restored but there was no guarantee to that. So the next plan revolved either around challenging my brother for eggs from Dragonstone or praying that Vhagar laid a clutch.
I knew from my previous life and the dragonlore I read in this one that a dragon did not necessarily need a male to produce eggs but still, I could not help but feel a little nervous. A dragon had never been recorded laying eggs away from Dragonstone or Old Valyria from what I read and if that was another change in this world, I would have to make a decision to secure the future for my family as a dragonriding house.
“Prince Maegor?” I heard Dick Bean say from behind me and I quickly turned my head to greet my squire. He was nearly six and ten now, almost old enough to actually ride into battle and nearing his majority.
“Yes, Dick?” I asked with a little more frustration than I ought to have. I had been in a near perpetually bad mood since I learned Shiera was pregnant. I was already unpleasant to be around after she left but since that news arrived, it was quite the challenge to maintain the smile that had won me many friends.
“A letter just arrived from Her Grace,” Dick said in his usual demure tone. He was always a good squire but ever since Shiera left he did his best to not bother me, it only made me appreciate him more. I picked an excellent squire.
“Thank you, Dick,” I said as I grasped the letter from his hands and moved to open it. It was in fact sealed with the red wax and three-headed dragon that marked it as a Targaryen letter and I could only imagine that there was one thing written inside.
I was correct in my imagination. Just a few simple words hastily, but beautifully written into the paper.
“3:30 Glass Candle, urgent,” were the words and I smiled at them.
…
Lighting a glass candle was never really all that easy for me. I could of course summon fire from the obsidian spires but properly lighting one was different. It required focus, concentration, and ability. The first two I possessed plenty of but my ability was lacking.
It was a strange thing, given that I often possessed an inordinate amount of ability. Whether it be my size, my strength, how naturally sword fighting came to me, or my strong bond with my dragon. Whenever I threw my everything into something it typically worked out for me. Glass Candles were the sole exception.
I knew it was not a magic problem. I had few issues with dragon riding and fewer issues with fire magic, but Glass Candles eluded me for a long time. I could of course detect and repulse stray attacks on my mind, as my mother taught me long ago how to do. But the deeper uses of them remained a mystery to me but after a very long series of lessons by Shiera, I figured out I could light a glass candle to speak through it, even if that was the limit to my ability.
It irked me that it was, if I was even half as capable as my mother or Shiera I could lift the burden off of them. The burden of using a glass candle was great, damage to the eyes and the draining of stamina was no small thing, and if I could even help spread out some of the damage I would have happily done so. Yet it was not to be, the limit of my abilities with this damnable obsidian stick was to use it as long-distance communication.
I looked once at the clock, confirming the time before I sucked in a breath and willed my candle to light. It was similar and yet different from how I called Terrax to me. Less requesting and more demanding is how I would describe it.
With a WHOOSH a bright green flame, the same color as Terrax’s flames, appeared above the candle and my mind connected to it.
“Can you hear me?” I queried into the void, speaking in this plain was still new to me but I was getting the hang of it.
“Maegor!” I heard my mother respond quickly and frantically, and I felt my concern spike.
“What did you need to speak with me for?” I asked quickly, I could act more concerned but given she was using a glass candle she was probably alright, at least in the short term.
“I found it, I have everything we need,” my mother’s frantic words quickly translated properly, being replaced with excitement.
“Found what? Do you know how many Faceless Men are left and where they are?” I asked, hope returning to my tone. With the Faceless Men wiped out I could well… not bring Shiera back quite yet but I could advance my plans to end the war with Braavos and finally secure Pentos for the long term.
“Yes, I know that and so much more. This fool, this cretin, he knew how to make their disgusting disguises, how to disguise yourself as another. All of their secrets are ripe for the taking from this creature’s mind,” this was perhaps the most excited I had ever heard my mother be. I would not quite describe her as a kid in a candy store but it was just a level below that.
“Truly?” I asked, bewildered. I was more focused on the true number of and location of the remaining Faceless Men than on the knowledge of how to make the masks but both were incredible boons. New ideas would have to be made with my mother and Shiera about how to use the new information and knowledge but there was a more important matter to attend to.
“Yes, I know everything from their production to their storage to how to use them.” My mother seemed quite proud of herself, even more so than normal, not that I was complaining. She really did achieve an excellent victory.
“Right, now then. How many are left and where are they?” I asked, this news was far more important to me right now.
“There are just two left after I dispose of this brainless fool. One is after you while another has fled to Lorath. I will hunt him personally,” she said with an almost predatory tone.
“Mother, Vhagar is more important to the war effort. We can deal with the one in Lorath later. Let us focus on killing the one after me and then finishing up the war on Braavos,” I offered. I wanted this war to end, if my mother went to Lorath it could take her several sennights at least to sniff out the Faceless Man.
“No, he needs to be disposed of now, before he thinks of moving again. I know what he looks like, which faces he has with him, and if I strike hard and fast he will not have a chance to further blend in,” she said with resolute determination.
“Strike hard and fast? Surely you do not intend to attack Lorath too?” I asked, a little concerned. The conquest of Lorath was simply unnecessary. With de facto control over both Braavos and Norvos, Lorath would be an effective client state for me regardless. Not to mention another war would delay my bringing Shiera and my boys back.
“No no, I will kill the beast personally. I know the house he is currently staying in. His current identity, and even his occupation. Hunting down a single fisherman will take me no more than a sennight,” she further explained her plan and I was nervous to agree. I figured she would do so anyway but it was still troublesome.
“Promise me you will be safe,” I reluctantly said. I knew she would go anyway so I would at least get a promise from her.
“I will, total victory is in sight, my son. After these two are gone our family will never have to worry about these wretches ever again,” my mother exclaimed excitedly and I could not help but share her sentiment. Her attack had been much more successful than originally thought.
“Very well, I will remain on the lookout for anyone after me here. The moment he is slain I will ride out to meet with you in Old Andalos,” I said with a little more energy than I had before. A true end to this shadow war was possible and with an end to that conflict, the real war could be fought and won.
“Excellent, the one after you looked like an Andal the last time this mindless fool saw him. Fair-haired, green eyes, and a hooked nose. I know it does not give you much to go off of and he may have changed his identity since then but unfortunately, that is all I can give you,” my mother’s tone turned apologetic.
“It is fine, I will end this assassin after me and then we will win this war,” I said, fire returning to my tone for the first time since Shiera left.
“Indeed, indeed we will.”
_________________________________________________________________________
Visenya VIII
3rd Moon, 33AC
The deeply forested hills that covered the coastline of Northwestern Essos were hardly the best places to use a glass candle but Visenya would make do. She had to, for it was her duty to tie up this last loose end.
Sure there was one more after her son. One that would be sniffed out and disposed of soon but hers was frankly the more important target. Her son was now fully healed and should have less than zero trouble laying a trap for the faceless coward.
She had also warned him about the different poisons he may use and that meant that he was no doubt preparing the cures for them as she fiddled with the chest strapped to her beloved Vhagar’s saddle.
The glass candle she brought into the field was in dire straits. The finely crafted nature of a glass candle and the material made them quite fragile and it seemed her current one had suffered from its use as a paperweight for more than a century.
The finely sharpened points and stunning carvings that decorated her glass candle on Dragonstone were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the candle was merely a plain stick of Dragonglass with the faintest scratches on it.
Honestly, Visenya was surprised it even worked. Same with the one her son now used in Pentos, and the one that her goodaughter formerly used. She knew from the stories her father told, and her own experience, that Glass Candles were remarkably fragile. Prone to breaking at the slightest misuse.
Which meant that the glass candle she currently had with her was going to break. It was already getting hard to light and her sway over the malformed mass of black glass was fraying already. It was an incredible find from Shiera but Visenya would have to look for another.
‘Perhaps Volantis has some,’ Visenya thought as she finally got the smaller box down from her Vhagar’s saddle. The glass candle she brought with her was the smallest one her family possessed.
Volantis was widely known for its reverence toward Old Valyria, even if Visenya could see through it. Volantis was the eldest surviving child of Valyria, and thus foolishly considered itself as the heir to the legacy of Dragonlords.
It was a farce, of course, the only heirs to Old Valyria that still lived was her own family. But regardless, the Volantenes had done extensive work in cultivating that image. They worshiped the fourteen gods of Old Valyria, the ones that her ancestors supposedly worshiped.
It was also a farce of course. It was not merely the fourteen gods that were worshiped in Old Valyria. No, easily one thousand gods were honored in her ancestral home, but none were feared. Nor did her ancestors even particularly believe in gods at all. The fragmentary remains of old history books on Dragonstone indicated that true worship of the fourteen had died out for the most part. In everyone except the Dragonkeepers that is.
Yet the Dragonkeepers did earnestly believe in the Fourteen Flames, and rightfully worshipped House Targaryen because of it. Meanwhile, the Volantenes only paid lip service, as seen in their disrespect of her house.
Volantis clearly took after Old Valyria in its indifference to religion, had they been true believers then they would have welcomed House Targaryen as their rightful sovereigns. Yet the stubborn Volantenes had delusions of grandeur.
They would likely be the next big challenge for her family. Volantis had been humbled by Aegon and Argilac but not broken. No decisive blow was truly dealt, the city was not sacked, the ports not burned, and no farms were destroyed. No, Volantis remained a city of almost a million souls with a half dozen other cities that dwarfed even Oldtown back in Westeros.
Volantis was no doubt licking her wounds now and preparing on how to act. They had a myriad of options ahead of them, many paths they could choose to take. If they were ruled by an intelligent trio of triarchs. They would get a favorable deal with her son and not test him further.
Volantis held many distinct advantages regarding relations with House Targaryen compared to the other Free Cities. Distance was the first, Volantis was not directly bordering Pentos except for a small territorial dispute in the Golden Fields, which meant that her son’s actions were not directly threatening their security.
There was also the matter of the Dothraki. It was no secret that Khal Temmo was aiming for Volantis. The prize two hundred and fifty thousand Rhoynar could not take. It would have been the jewel in his crown if he actually managed to capture it.
The united Dothraki menace had been ended by her son three years ago now but they were not wiped out fully. There remained thousands of Dothraki east of Qohor, dominating the fallen kingdom of Sarnor. Another Khal of Khals could very well pop up in the ensuing chaos. Even then, the damage a single band of Dothraki could cause should not be underestimated. Volantis and her lesser cities did have high walls but their farms did not.
An alliance of sorts would be natural and easy to agree to. Volantis was not without things to give House Targaryen. Trade with the city could very well be lucrative and work to build her family’s wealth even further. Even if she doubted it would be necessary after the Iron Bank was looted.
Then came the last point in favor of Volantis, the Old Blood. The Old Blood of Volantis was a very obvious choice for brides if her son could not work out something with Aenys or House Velaryon. Many of the Old Blood were directly related to old members of the Forty Families, even if they were descendants of branches of branch families their blood was still by far the purest outside of Houses Targaryen, Velaryon, Celtigar, and Qoherys.
Visenya wondered if any were currently considering sending offers as she fiddled with the small iron box. None would be accepted until Shiera could no longer have more children but prospective offers could be useful in scouting out potential allies behind the Black Walls.
‘Regardless, I have work to do,’ Visenya thought, resolving herself for the foolish thing she was about to do.
Visenya hauled the small iron box near the entrance of a cave Vhagar spotted from the sky. She needed a place dark and quiet to use her Glass Candle and given she was currently in the wilderness, there were few options.
Vhagar did not sense anything dangerous in the cave she was about to enter but even still, she would be relying entirely on her dragon to keep her safe. ‘Can she keep me safe from what I am about to do, however?’ Visenya thought before dropping to her knees and willing the candle to light.
…
The sensation of leaving her body was a familiar one to Visenya. She had been doing this ever since she was two and ten after all. Yet doing it alone was quite the dangerous thing to do.
Glass Candles were remarkably dangerous, there was a reason for their distinctive design, misusing the glass candles could lead to a myriad of horrible effects. Whether they be on your eyes, lungs, or even the candle itself.
Yet her position necessitated quickness and surprise. She knew from experience that operating a Glass Candle solo would not kill her, even if it would hurt like hell.
That was for the future, however, as Visenya glided past Vhagar, who followed her movements with her glowing green eyes, before she began moving toward Lorath. She had no idea how long she would have to look to find the cretin so it would be better to start early.
Lorath was a deeply… disappointing city on the eyes. As a Free City, it ought to have been sizable and wealthy, benefiting from the trade and wealth brought on by the Freehold. Yet the dreary, bleak islands instead reminded her of a more depressing Dragonstone, without the dragons and Dragonmont that made her island home so special.
Regardless, she had a lead and the docks of the city were visible from her position. She quickly willed her form to the docks and began her search. Wasting time was not an option, she had potentially two hundred thousand souls to sift through, and every second was precious.
The docks were relatively clean at the moment, or well, as clean as docks could be. The ships were all preparing to launch to fish, hunt seals, and some of the larger ships even looked like they might be hunting leviathans.
‘Certainly, they will not mind if Vhagar takes some for herself,’ Visenya thought with a smile as she continued to sift through the docks. Looking for any out-of-place persons.
Vhagar had grown enormously over the course of Visenya’s life. Vhagar was six and thirty when Visenya claimed her at the age of three and ten. At the time she was not even half of Balerion’s size. Now she was close to seventy percent by her estimate.
When her precious bronze and green she-dragon was smaller, she would be satisfied by two bulls or around five and ten sheep. Now, however? Vhagar could easily consume thrice that amount.
Such was the cost of having bigger and bigger dragons. Not only did the cost to feed them increase but the cost of housing them too. The Dragonpit on Dragonstone only had four and ten true stables, even if some dragons could theoretically share a stable if the need arose.
The Dragonpit in King’s Landing was honestly an intelligent idea, as much as she hated to give Aegon credit for it. Their house was clearly going to continue to acquire more dragons. As seen most recently when Aenys’s firstborn brat had claimed a pale blue hatchling.
They already matched Aenar the Exile now in the number of dragons, even if the dragons they had now paled in size compared to the beasts Aenar brought from Old Valyria. Five was an excellent start and with plenty more eggs in the hatcheries, enough that all of her grandchildren should be Dragonriders.
‘We will likely need more,’ Visenya thought with a frown as she passed a group of grimy old men, begging sailors of all people for some gold.
With the destruction of the Faceless Men, the only way her house would truly be tested was on the field of battle. A dragon made most battles trivial but having only a handful limited their usefulness. Not to mention there was a historical precedent to follow. Valyria brought three hundred to Volantis to face the Rhoynar after losing three and her siblings lost one when taking Westeros.
It looked likely that her grandchildren would have to fight at some point. Whether it be against forces in Westeros, Essos, or the Dothraki she did not know but she would feel a hell of a lot better with them atop dragons. Thankfully, her son was currently working on a solution.
It was a shame there were no hatchlings to be claimed on Dragonstone but it was not the end of the world. After all, Aenys would be taking the throne after her brother and she was confident Maegor could force Aenys’s hand.
They had already mulled it over a little bit. From the letter sent it seemed like Aenys still cared about Maegor, and her son was fully willing to leverage that to get dragons for his children. ‘As he should,’ Visenya thought as she scanned the interior of a small fishing trawler. Frankly, securing dragons was the most important thing for Maegor to do once the Faceless Men were finished off.
‘There you are!’ Visenya thought with a smile as something caught the corner of her vision. A man with an overly sized head, fake eyes, and a face behind the one he wore. A plain leather tunic, black hair, an unassuming face, and a bushy beard. That was the disguise he wore, and it was different from the one the Faceless Man she killed remembered.
‘It is a good thing I arrived here so fast,’ Visenya thought, nearly shuddering at the thought of this supremely dangerous creature slipping from her grasp. She had him now, however. She mentally marked which ship the ugly creature climbed aboard and tracked it all the way out to sea, only separating when they began casting away their nets.
‘It’s now or never,’ Visenya thought as she returned at a breakneck pace back to the forested peninsula she was currently hiding Vhagar in. She had to get back to her body and cook this cretin before he had a chance to slip away.
In no time at all, Visenya made it back to her stationary body and resolved herself. She could not quite take a deep breath given her non-corporeal form, but she resolved herself nonetheless. What she was about to do was supremely dangerous.
Visenya worked over the procedure in her mind. She had to force herself out of her projection. Which was not only dangerous but it was also quite challenging. She had done it once before. When she was training with one of her two glass candles that used to reside on Dragonstone. Now there was only one.
Visenya slowly reached out a hand and then her world went dark. Before suddenly blaring to life. Agony washed over her first, a blinding, searing pain that rolled over her entire body. Then came the tremors in her mind.
She fought hard to retain her composure. Fighting through the loud BANG that resounded from her glass candle shattering into a million small fragments. Along with the pained roar of her beloved dragon, whom she was currently relying on to steady her mind.
She pulled on her connection with Vhagar as her mind righted itself. She was rushing an already dangerous process and thankfully she had a mental companion she could depend on. Without Vhagar, her mind could easily break.
After what felt like hours but was only seconds in real time. Visenya’s bloodshot eyes opened to see the concerned green eye of her Vhagar looking at her. Then came more pain, as she felt blood begin to trickle from her nose, ears, and eyes. But it was worth it, her play worked. She was out and lucid, which was all she needed to end the Faceless Men threat outside of Pentos.
Visenya rose to her wobbly knees in pain. The last time she did this was when she was three and ten. Not only did it leave her bedridden for a full day but it also cost them one of their two glass candles.
Visenya shakily crawled up Vhagar’s lowered wing and strapped herself tightly into the saddle of Vhagar. She knew she would survive even if she did pass out, which she would inevitably do at some point. She knew full well that it would take her at least a day of rest, thankfully she was not needed after this one last act. For her son was already laying a trap for the last Faceless Man on a mission as she secured the last buckle.
The pain in her mind reminded her why she did not bother teaching Shiera this method. Not only could they really not afford to lose their sole glass candle on Dragonstone but she also did not want her gooddaughter to go through the pain she was currently experiencing. The ordinary pain and exhaustion that accompanied using a Glass Candle was enough.
“Soves, Vhagar,” Visenya said with a light whip of her reins. She did not have the mental strength to command her dragon with her mind, as she would typically do.
Vhagar listened dutifully, just as Visenya wished. She spent a lifetime with Vhagar and there was no hesitation or miscommunication possible between them. They were practically one and the same.
With a leap and a powerful beat of her two great bronze wings. Vhagar was foisted into the sky. Slowly and then very quickly climbing higher and higher above the treeline. In just a few moments they were above the Bay of Lorath, and then she directed her dragon toward where she knew the Faceless Man was.
The pain made the flight feel longer than it truly was. She and Vhagar could not have been flying for more than five and ten minutes according to Maegor’s new clock before she spotted the small fishing boat.
This time she was able to suck in a breath as she lined up Vhagar for an attack. A steep dive followed by a long burst of fire, to ensure that the Faceless Man died. A few innocent fishermen would also be caught in the flames but it was a worthy sacrifice in Visenya’s opinion,
“Angōs, Vhagar!” Visenya said as she pulled on the reins and Vhagar entered her dive. Like a bolt of lightning, they shot toward the choppy waves beneath. She had deliberately taken Vhagar high to hide from the Faceless Man potentially spotting them but it seemed she caught them unawares as none reacted to her attack.
Just before they reached the water, Vhagar pulled up ever so slightly and released a torrent of flames from the water line. Visenya rocked back and forth in the saddle but was a familiar feeling. One she could almost fall asleep to.
Visenya heard the ship explode before she saw the fragments of the small wooden vessel scatter through the sky. The water inside the boat must have turned to steam and exploded, which was fine by Visenya, so long as it killed the Faceless Man that was.
Vhagar flapped her great leathery wings several times, continuing to rain her scorching hot flames onto the rapidly sinking wreckage and water below. The fire continued for so long that Visenya could actually see the sea boiling.
‘Good, he has to be dead,’ Visenya thought with a tired smile as she spotted all two dozen bodies of the sailors she had seen float to the surface. If the initial blast of fire did not get him. The several minutes of time in the boiling ocean certainly did.
Visenya pulled on Vhagar’s reins and chanced a mental command. Her mind was still reeling from her action with the glass candle but it worked nonetheless. After Vhagar made one more pass with her flames and ensured every piece of wreckage was either burning or the water around it was boiling. She turned southwest and began her flight back toward Pentos.
‘Sorry girl,’ Visenya thought with a small smile. She never got to grab a piece of Leviathan for Vhagar.
Comments
Morel
Visenya is confident but she also just picked clean the mind of a Faceless Man and learned all their tactics and secrets. She will not go and square up with a Faceless Man, she will use their weaknesses to pick him off and bail before anyone is none the wiser. Visenya has too much to live for to die right now.
KAZUHA02
I'm sensing a bad feeling. Visenya is growing arrogant and underestimating the Faceless Men. I don't doubt of her wits, capabilities and talents but she is old. And Old body do not always work as you intent it to do. And a single cramp can give the enemy the time required and opening required for them to kill her
Morel
He already has Dark Sister, he doesn't need a new sword, but a shield, however. Hmm. He would need to acquire Valyrian Steel first, and he might prioritize a sword for Daeron or more swords for his sons over a shield or armor. Braavos will be brought to heel, they need to be punished for the attempt on his life.
Arcturus
Right now Maegor need a new valyrian sword and shield, best would be bastard one for his height and force. This new meeting with Faceless man should have other results than previous one. Does he have a new sword? Maybe from fallen dothraki khals or present from Norvos, something like symbols of his deeds as Protector? And than brutal annihilation of all braavosy forces without mercy, should begin
